


Of Birthdays and Relationships

by Paladin4TheRight



Category: South Park
Genre: Chaptered, Extreme angst, M/M, Mentions of Underage Sex, Mentions of underage drinking, Smut, So Much Awkwardness, extreme depression, mentions of marijuana
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-03-20 14:51:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13720008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paladin4TheRight/pseuds/Paladin4TheRight
Summary: It's Stan's birthday and he's a little plastered.This is going to be dedicated to mostly Stan or Kyle’s POV. Occasionally, there will be kenny's POV as well due him playing a large, positive part in their lives.Essentially this is pre-Revenge era and this is the story of what happened between Stan and Kyle and how they eventually have their happy ending. Eventually. :’))





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Butters, Clyde, Token, and Heidi are really only mentioned in passing.

Music sounded loudly throughout Stan Marsh’s house. It was mostly death metal with words unintelligible to anyone who hadn’t read the lyrics. The tv was playing loudly with video games on the screen and other teenagers, anywhere from fourteen to nineteen, were drinking, smoking, and having a good time. Stan had a half full bottle of Jameson in his hand which he’d been drinking straight for the last ten minutes or so. It was amazing how much alcohol the eighteen-year-old could intake but then again, he came from a family with odd but amazing skills. He greeted new people at the door with slurred words and turned around again. He was feeling really good about everything tonight. His parents weren’t home, Shelley was off at college, and he had all the freedom in the world. He started to walk around, stumbling over his own feet occasionally. The only thing that would make tonight better was if he could find his super best friend. “K-Ky?” He called, “Ky-el.” He called, finding it difficult to say Kyle’s name.

Kyle sat alone in the kitchen. He’d just finished his last shot of whiskey and his cheeks were rosy. He decided he had had enough for the night. He had left his fuzzy green trapper on the table and tangled his fingers in his kinky curly red hair. It was a school night and he had a test damn tomorrow morning. He knew if he went to school hungover he would flunk and that was just unacceptable for himself. It was a bummer too, because he was having a lot of fun. He released his hair, grabbed his hat and prepared to tell Stan he was ready to turn in for the night. He stood up, and the walls did waves. “Ooh.” He groaned as he closed his eyes. Maybe he had already pushed his limits. He had decided he definitely needed to go to bed when he heard his name, or something close to it, being called. “Huh?” He called out in reply. When he opened his green eyes, the room was back to normal.

Making his way to the kitchen, Stan smiled to himself and stumbled as he passed Butters and someone else making out on the stairs. He vaguely heard Cartman and Heidi getting into a heated argument about something, but then again, when were they not? When Stan saw Kyle, the biggest, stupidest grin he could muster forced its way out of his lips despite not being able to feel his mouth. Immediately he almost felt like throwing up as his heart thumped loudly in his chest. _Man, fucking liquor makes me feel weird around Kyle._ He walked up to the red headed teen and placed his right hand on Kyle’s left shoulder to steady himself. He took another swig of Jamie and then wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “Dude...dude, why...” He began, then thought of his words. “Why are you all alone?” He asked, looking around the kitchen. It had been abandoned for the time being.

“I dunno dude.” He replied honestly as he shrugged his shoulders. He hadn’t realized there wasn’t anyone in the kitchen with him. “But I gotta go home.” He admitted putting a hand to Stan’s stomach to help steady him. “You got yourself fucked up dude. You are going to regret it tomorrow.” He added thoughtfully with a small smile. “Maybe I should help you into bed before I leave?” He worried about his friend trying to make it up the stairs drunk and alone. He could only imagine his friend falling down the stairs and winding up with a broken neck. That shit happened all the time in South Park. _Fuck_ he _hated_ it here. He needed to do well in school so he could get the fuck outta Dodge.

“Nah, nah, I gotta clean before Randy and Sharon come home.” Stan slurred, wobbling a bit. The Irish whiskey in the Jameson bottle sloshed a bit but it was low enough that there was no worry of it spilling unless it was dropped. “All...also, you can’t leave. This party is bumpin.’ Everyone’s making out and arguing. Fuckin’ even Butters is kissin’ on someone.” Stan laughed boisterously. He was probably a lot louder than he meant to be. It was so difficult to control his volume. “You can’t go. Like, if you’re tired, sleep here. I’ll let you sleep in my...my bed and I’ll sleep on the floor.”

Becoming apprehensive, Kyle said, “I’ll get in so much shit if my mom finds out...” But as he thought about it, maybe spending the night at Stan’s would be the best thing. He pulled out his phone and texted his mom so she wouldn’t worry. He slipped it back into his jeans pocket and then wrapped his arms around Stan’s waist. “Alright, cool dude. I’ll just spend the night here...but we have to go to bed. We all have tests tomorrow.” He reminded Stan. “Wait, Butters is making out with someone too?” He asked, definitely surprised. “Why am _I_ not making out with anyone?” He wondered aloud in mock curiosity. “Oh yeah, it’s because I’m the only one being anal about school tomorrow _morning_. You know, in six hours.” He stressed vocally.

“Don’t...don’t worry.” Stan grinned, closing his eyes. He smiled so big the tops of his cheeks made his eyes turn into little crescent moons. With Kyle’s palm against his stomach it reacted by doing little weird flipflops. “I-I happen to k-know...” Stan hiccupped as he tried to ignore the nausea wash over him. “Know that this test you’re so scared of right now, you’ll fuckin’ do so good.” He told his best friend. “You do so damned fuckin’ good at all the stuff you do.” He noted with sincerity. “Now c’mon.” He grabbed Kyle’s hand, walked them both to the living room and looked around at all his friends. _Seriously, who is makin' out with Butters? Was Butters fuckin' moanin'?_ “Fuck.” Stan stared for a moment and then turned around. . He noticed Craig and Tweek pouring a couple more glasses for themselves. Both of their eyes were bloodshot and they looked to be enjoying themselves. “H-hey hey hey,” Stan hiccupped loudly enough for everyone to look at him. He let go of Kyle’s hand and walked to the stereo to down the volume. “Get out.” He slurred. “I’ve had a shit ton of fun but everyone needs to leave so I can go to sleep.”

With that, people started nodding their heads. Tweek clutched his shirt and looked to Craig. “ _-Ngh!-_ Shit man, I have a fucking test tomorrow, _Jesus Christ_!” He shrieked and looked around him. “How the fuck can I take a test if all I can see are _-nng!-_ the underpants gnomes?!”

Craig wrapped his arms around Tweek comfortingly and shook his head, “Don’t worry babe. Everything will be alright.” He droned out as he pulled Tweek along with him to leave. "You can stay over with me."

There were some additional moans and groans from people who did not want to leave the party but everyone began to pile out.

Stan smiled and nodded his head. “Yeah, tests and shit. Everyone, get out.” He repeated and began to show everyone the door.

Once all of their peers were out, Stan looked to Kyle. “S-see, everyone is...” He hiccupped, “Everyone is gone now.” He smiled that big, doofus like grin again.

Kyle nodded as he relaxed a little more. His hands rested on his hips as he turned around and looked at the state of the house. It was a _fucking wreck_. “C’mon dude, we gotta clean this shit before we go to bed.” He stooped over and began to pick up trash, empty beer cans and liquor bottles. Kyle walked to the kitchen and dumped what he had in his hands in the trash can. He picked up the can and walked back to the living room so he could more easily clean up.

It wasn’t long before he wiped down some of the beer spilled on the walls as well as the puke on the floor. Despite being grossed out, Kyle still managed to keep his cool and clean it all up. “There dude.” He hummed quietly as he made it over to Stan who seemed to barely hold his composure. “Let’s get you upstairs.”

That stupid smile never left Stan’s rosy red face. The eighteen-year-old felt good. He felt guilty for not helping Kyle clean but he could barely move without falling over so he’d gone and sat on the couch while his best friend picked up. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of the other teen as he cleaned and it made Stan want to hurl in the best possible way. His heart quaked every time his green orbs fell on him. “You gonna hold m-my hand?” Stan murmured, reaching his left hand out in attempts to grab onto Kyle. He squeezed his fingers open and shut, motioning that he wanted Kyle like a child, he hoped his friend would take the hint. Standing up from the couch, Stan closed his eyes for a moment and almost stumbled backwards. He held tightly onto the bottle of Jameson and grabbed onto the arm of the couch to catch himself. Eyes still closed he reached it up to his lips to take another drink. Some of it spilled onto his shirt but he grinned as he drank a little more. Whiskey was _good_.

Kyle grabbed Stan’s hand as he rolled his eyes. “Dude, I think you’ve had enough. You are so wasted.” He scoffed as he held onto Stan’s hand tightly and carefully led him up the stairs. They took it one step at a time. Kyle made it halfway and felt a little dizzy himself. He closed his eyes for a moment, preventing himself from swaying. Once a few seconds passed by, Kyle opened his eyes again and the house stabilized itself once again. He led Stan up the stairs and to his room, looking back and checking up on him every so often to ensuring his best friend was still standing and not throwing up or something. Kyle pushed open Stan’s bedroom door and pulled Stan along, closing the door behind him.

“H-hey, we’re in my room.” Stan slurred and looked to Kyle, stumbling backward a bit. “And it’s super quiet in here.” He looked around, then to his own bed. A smile crossed his face. “Bed...I fucking missed you, Bed.” He spoke to his bed as if it were a person. He then turned to Kyle. “Kyle...I fucking missed you too dude.” He mumbled, taking a step toward his best friend and placed his hands on Kyle’s shoulders with a wide grin. “So, like...we’re all alone now.” He commented, wrapping his arms around Kyle’s neck. “I been wantin’ to talk to you all night but couldn’t ever see you.”

Kyle put his hands firmly to Stan’s hips and tried to push the taller boy away. “Yeah dude, that’s because I was in the kitchen.” He replied in a matter-of-fact tone. He looked out the window and grimaced at the smell of Stan’s breath. It smelled heavily like a mix between a bit of weed and Jameson. It wasn’t that it smelled all that horrible but he shouldn’t be close enough to smell his best friend’s breath. “Dude.” Kyle finally said, his brow furrowed as he looked right at Stan, meeting his deep blue eyes with his green ones. “What’s wrong with you?” He growled, growing frustrated. His heart fluttered up into his throat as he watched those half-lidded blue eyes watching him through thick black lashes.

“Dude, I fucking love you.” Stan hummed softly, looking right into Kyle’s eyes the best his own inebriated ones would let him. He stumbled a little bit at the attempt to push him but Stan stood his ground, again to the best of his abilities. Stan was tall, broad, decently strong in stature. He was the star quarterback for the South Park Cows so that really did stand for something. It helped him keep his balance when Kyle had tried to push him away. “I really fucking love you but I can’t let you know that.” He admitted with a sheepish, drunk grin. He leaned forward without warning and placed his chapped lips to Kyle’s smooth ones; his grin when he kissed his friend never left. _God_ , it just felt so nice. So fucking _right_. Finally, he was kissing someone and that someone was **Kyle**. Stan felt like throwing up as nausea started settling in, making a home in the pit of his stomach and Stan couldn’t tell if it was because of Kyle or because he’d been drinking. Still, he moved his arms even with them being heavy as they seemed, around Kyle’s neck.

 _What the hell?_ Kyle’s stomach flipped and his heart suddenly went wild in his chest. This was his _best_ friend. **Super best friend.** What was he supposed to do? He stood there for a moment, watching Stan, whose eyes had fluttered closed. He looked so peaceful, happy even, and super, _super_ fucking drunk. Kyle’s face flushed with color that matched his hair and his ears were hot to the touch. He was almost mad at first but he couldn’t find it in his swooning heart to stay that way. He took in a deep breathe through his nose and forced his eyes closed. He pushed his lips against Stan’s just to make his taller best friend happy. His heart hammered in his chest so hard it almost hurt and he was sure for a moment that maybe he was having a heart attack. If he didn’t want it then why was his heart taking a giant shit?

When Kyle kissed him back, Stan grew excited. He began to peck gently at Kyle’s lips, trying to get the other teen to open up to him. His arms tightened around Kyle’s neck and he couldn't help but grin. He moved his head a bit to begin covering Kyle’s face in more kisses, starting at the side of his lips and moving up to his cheeks, forehead, nose and down back to Kyle’s lips. His kisses were drunken and sloppy. Kyle was warm which thrilled the wasted quarterback.

Kyle was complete thrown off guard. He thought maybe it was a joke: _Cartman was probably hiding in the closet videotaping this and Kenny snickering under Stan’s bed. _Stan genuinely seemed excited, though, and was really into it. Kyle had no words for how he felt. He kissed Stan back a few times but he kept his hands to Stan’s hips to maintain their distance apart. Stan was bigger, stronger than he was and it was difficult fighting against the drunken teen. He felt as though his entire body was engulfed in flames, all lit on fire. Every nerve ending was on edge, acutely aware of the static that lit through the air. Goosebumps ran down his legs and arms and, _holy fucking shit_ , it was kind of turning him on. He finally caved and opened his mouth to the kiss Stan kept wanting.__

____

____

Giggling when Kyle finally opened his mouth, Stan captured Kyle’s bottom lip in his own and sucked for a moment before letting go. The kisses he gave his best friend were sloppy and drunken but he enjoyed the feeling of Kyle’s soft lips against his own more than he ever thought possible. He could feel the tug of the front of his torn-up jeans. Stan licked lightly at Kyle’s mouth, feeling the warmth that was Kyle’s breath ghost across his face, inhaling the scent of sandalwood and the slight tang of whiskey on his lips. He never wanted this moment to end.

A moan escaped Kyle’s throat before he could catch it. He felt dizzy. This wasn’t right. _This had to be a fucked up dream, right?_ He had known Stanley all his life - he had never had these thoughts or feeling before now. Had he? His lower half was warm and strained as he starting to grow hard. He released one hand from Stan’s hips and pulled his orange jacket down to hide his growing bulge. He kissed back, though, despite himself. Stan’s tongue invaded his mouth and he wrestled his tongue with Stan’s. He wanted to prove that he could be dominant as well. All these feelings were driving Kyle crazy.

Stan moaned behind the kiss and reached in front of Kyle to begin unzipping the other teen’s jacket. He heard the zipper move downward and he grinned. He pulled away from the kiss to pull Kyle’s jacket off him. “Dude, I fuckin’ love you.” Stan’s voice was gentle as he tossed the orange jacket to the floor. “I’ve always fuckin’ loved you.” He sighed and reached up under the hem of Kyle’s shirt. He looked to meet Kyle’s dark, dilated green eyes and watched the other teen through his own ocean pools. He was hot, needed his clothes taken off, and he really wanted to throw up. He thought he’d outgrown wanting to throw up because of crushes. _Guess not._ He smiled and began to shimmy off his Letterman jacket.

 _Oh, shit. Oh, fucking shit._ These words repeated themselves in Kyle’s mind. This was really about to fucking happen. He helped Stan peel off his Letterman jacket and tossed it to the floor close to his own bundled mess of a jacket. He breathed through his mouth, his heart squeezing and collapsing on itself until it was sore. He suddenly felt nervous, excited. He had so many emotions at once and he was fucking hard. “Fuck, Stan.” Was all he could expel out of his throat and his damn voice cracked. Was this all serious? Should he say he loved him back? Obviously, he did but he wasn’t so sure it was in the same way. Or was it? He didn’t know what the fuck was happening but that it felt _so right_. And wrong. He crashed his lips against Stan’s, breathing heavily through his nose as he began to unbuckle Stan’s belt.

Strong knees buckled to Kyle’s intense kiss. Stan knew he was hard and as soon as he felt his belt come undone, he moved his own hands to undo his pants, dropping them to the carpeted floor; all he was left in was a plain black t-shirt and a pair of red and black plaid boxers. Once he kicked his pants to the side, he moved to begin undoing Kyle’s belt as well, all the while kissing his best friend. He couldn’t believe they were doing this. Stan felt satisfied, relieved, and continuously queasy at the same time. This felt so good, so right, so natural. This is where he decided he’d belonged when suddenly Stan tore away from Kyle. . He groaned and looked to his best friend with half lidded eyes. “Fuck...” He muttered softly. “Fuck...” He placed his hands to his head and lowered his eyes to look at the ground, closing them as he let out a long exhale. The biliousness came in full force. It made Stan’s stomach tie in knots and he just did not feel very well at all. “Shit, Kyle...” He moaned softly, looking up to his best friend. Stan must have moved his head too quickly because he felt the rush of vomit come up into his throat and he ran for the small trash can he kept next to his desk. He hurled. All the alcohol, all the food, all the kisses which he would miss most of all. He chucked everything up.

Kyle blinked a few times, coming out of his reverie and missing the warmth that had surrounded him. His face slowly turning from a bight scarlet to a light pink as he heard the undeniable sounds of Stan vomiting. Hurling was definitely a mood killer for Kyle. “Shit dude.” He breathed as he buttoned and zipped his pants back up quickly then travelled over to his best friend’s side. “T-told ya you had too much.” He quietly scolded. The room seemed to be spinning, even for him. Was it the alcohol? Or was it a head rush from all the making out? He and Stan were almost going to… _Jesus Christ_. His cheeks immediately flooding to a bright scarlet and his stomach flipped. “You okay dude?” He asked as he lazily rubbed Stan’s strong, wide shoulder blades. 

Stan continued to empty the contents of his stomach. He shook his head during a break in regurgitation and looked to Kyle. His eyes were bloodshot and he felt like death. No way was he going to get any sleep tonight. “Dude,” Stan whined, reaching for some Kleenex that was conveniently placed next to his computer. “Am I dyin’?” Stan had so much concern in his voice. He felt like death was right at his door step. He turned back to the trash can and spit a final time before looking back at Kyle. “Kyle...I feel like shit. And I love you.” He leaned against the nice feeling of his back being rubbed. “You wanna lay down?”

Stan repeating that he loved him made Kyle’s stomach do even more acrobats. By the end of the night his damn stomach could join the circus. _Surely this was some kind of joke?_ Hopefully Stan threw up just because he was super drunk. “I’ll lie down with you as long as you don’t throw up on me.” He gave a meek chuckle as he continued to rub Stan’s back, patting it gently ever so often. “Also, no you are not dying. You drank too much, dude. That’s why you keep trying to profess your gay love for me.” He joked dryly.

A laugh escaped Stan’s throat. “Dude, I do. I fucking love you.” He watched Kyle with a smile on his face. He wiped his mouth with the Kleenex again and then looked to his bed. “Okay, let’s go lay down so I can die in peace.” He joshed. He picked up the trash can and started to stumble towards the bed. It was so strange. When he was kissing Kyle, he felt so steady and his movements seemed so sure. When he wasn’t kissing Kyle, he could barely see straight. Kyle was right. He was definitely going to regret his decisions in the morning, especially since he had to get up for football practice. _Ah fuck._ Stan sat on the bed and smiled at Kyle. He patted the spot next to him, indicating he wanted Kyle to sit next to him. It felt good sitting down. Stan didn’t feel quite as warm when he wasn’t standing.

Kyle moved over to where Stan indicated him to sit and plopped onto the bed. “Dude, you are too drunk to be saying that.” He responded to Stan telling him he loved him. “I mean, I love you too dude, but seriously.” He declared with a chuckle as he shook his head and tapped Stan’s thick shoulder comfortingly. “Lay down, you need to sleep.”

Stan nodded his head and pointed to the pillow on the other end of the bed. “‘Kay, dude.” He whisperd. He put the trash can beside his bed and smiled at Kyle. “You wanna spoon me?” Stan chuckled, cheeks getting redder as he laughed. “I’ll let you be th-the big spoon.” He laid down, resting his head on his pillow and picking his legs up slowly. He turned so he was laying on his back. He spread his legs so one was to the side of Kyle and the other was off the bed again, foot flat against the floor. His semi-hard on was still evident in his boxers. He grinned to the red headed teen.

Acknowledging Stan’s words, Kyle tried his damnedest to not notice the slight bulge in the boxers as he laid down next to Stan, wrapping his arms around his torso. He put his hands to Stan’s chest, lightly tapping it to a beat that he made up. It felt normal but he knew it wasn’t.

Stan had always been okay with gay people, animals, and things since that time in third grade where he went on Big Gay Al’s Big Gay Boat Ride. The boat was no longer a thing but Stanley had learned a lot from his adventure alone that day. He’d learned to accept his dog Sparky just as he was and homosexual people were alright too. Stan had been called queer and fag all his life for being an emotional, cynical person and he was fine if people thought of him that way because there was nothing wrong with being gay. He looked to Kyle and moved so he could wrap an arm around the red headed, green eyed teen. He grinned, leaning forward to place a kiss to his best friend’s head. “I love you, Ky.” He remarked genuinely. “You’re my best friend in the whole world. Don’t wanna know what it’d be like without you...”

Kyle smiled, almost immediately turning red at the remark. He felt his heart shit itself for the second time that night. _God dammit. What the fuck was wrong with me?_ He leaned into the kiss and closed his eyes. “You are my best friend too, dude. We have to die at the same time so we never find out, right?” This was something they agreed on in when they were young as well. “I love you too Stanley.” He meant it, whether or not it was platonically or homosexually; at this point, he couldn’t tell which one it was anymore.

*~*~*~*

An annoying and loud noise woke Stan from his slumber and upon waking up, he had the worst kind of headache. Stan reached for his phone to turn off the insistent alarm. Stan’s limbs were curled around Kyle’s but Stanley was determined to make it out of bed. It was five in the morning and the quarterback couldn’t miss practice in an hour. Head throbbing and muscles feeling wobbly, Stan moved as gently as he could to not wake his hard-sleeping best friend. Once out of the human entanglement, he looked at Kyle and smiled. He reached down to cover up the red headed teen and tucked him in. When Stan deemed Kyle sufficiently tucked in, it was time to get ready. Stan, every morning for the last seven years, had put on a football uniform first thing in the morning for practice. He’d pick out his clothes for the day and change after practice at school. Every night he would wash the uniform and then do it all again the next day. As he got dressed, he looked to Kyle again. He was feeling a lot of things for his best friend today, though unsure why. All of the night before had been a blur. He figured he was lucky that he woke up in his own bedroom this time.

Another alarm went off on Stan’s phone, causing the young man to swear and start heading down the stairs. Off to school he went, ready for 5:45 AM football practice.

*~*~*~*

Kyle had an alarm for 6:00AM sharp. As his phone went off from his jeans' pocket, he rubbed his eyes and looked around the room. He reached into his pocket and turned off the alarm and noticed that Stan’s football jersey and Letterman jacket were missing. _Good._ That meant he should have made it to practice. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to bid the headache good riddance when he remembered the actions that happened between he and Stan. On more than one occasion, Stan had confessed feelings for him. Just the thought created scarlet red cheeks on the ginger haired boy. He got out of Stan’s bed and found his green hat and slipped it on, not worrying about how his hair looked now. He stood up and grabbed his orange jacket that had been discarded on the floor and put it on before going to brush his teeth (Stan always had a spare toothbrush for his best friend) and started to walk to school. The morning air was crisp and dry. His breath could be seen as he let out a sigh and shoved his hands into his pocket. He walked to the bus stop where Kenny, waving at him, already waited patiently.

“Crazy night.” Kenny mumbled happily, muffled in his orange parka. His face was, as always, somewhere lost in the hood. It seemed as though he were in a good mood. As if he had no hang over at all. _Asshole._

“Yeah dude, no joke.” He replied softly. Eric walked up, but for once had nothing really to say. Kyle looked at Eric’s puzzled facial expression, but didn’t have the energy to deal with him. The bus pulled up before long and the boys got on to head to school. 

*~*~*~*

Football practice was difficult and cold for a hungover Stan Marsh. He’d overdone it on the drinking the night before but hell, it was his birthday. What else was he going to do? His parents had been gone so he had to throw himself a party. Was it his fault his birthday was on a Sunday? Of course not. Though he supposed he could have thrown it on Saturday. But he’d spent all day with Kyle on Saturday and that would have cut into their super best friend time. He smiled, thinking of Kyle. _God, he was so fucking cool._ Even though he knew he had a test today, he still came and Stan was sure he was taken care of by the ginger teen.

A football came hurdling toward Stan’s face. He caught the ball and started to hurry past Clyde and Token who were both on the “shirts” team during their football drill.

*~*~*~*

The boys made it to school and Kyle was honestly lost in his own world. Kenny and Cartman argued about pointless shit the whole way, which was unusual as it was usually Kyle and Cartman who argued. Kyle decided he had to see Stan. Maybe they should talk about what happened.

“Kyle? Where ya going dude?” Kenny asked, his voice still muffled.

“Going to see Stan. I’ll see you in class.” He replied. Cartman had nothing fucked up to say about it. Was Cartman alright? He usually had something to rip on him about. Kyle shrugged it off and walked for a few minutes. He’d found Stan out in the practice field and he was hoping they would wrap up soon because it was fucking cold outside. Kyle kept his hands in his orange jacket pockets.

Stan pulled his helmet down and adjusted his mouth guard. He rushed past Clyde and Token as he ran their play against the “shirts” team. Stan scored, crossing the touch down line and he looked to Token who’d taken off his helmet and Clyde who was kicking the dirt in anger. Stan grinned at the two guys as Token went to comfort Clyde. Stan looked around for a moment, seeing Kyle, and didn’t stop himself from grinning like an idiot, waving frantically as his heart thumped awkwardly in his chest. Coach blew their whistle to indicate that their mini game was over and that first period athletics period was to begin.

“Get your boyfriend off the field, Marsh. He’s got fuckin’ class to go to!” Coach yelled and Stan nodded, jogging up to Kyle.

“Hey dude,” Stan happily greeted his best friend. A big smile was on his face despite how horrible he felt. He really suddenly felt nauseous again. He placed a hand to Kyle’s shoulder. “Coach doesn’t want visitors today. Pretty sure he didn’t get laid last night because he’s been a complete dick.” Stan laughed. “How ya feelin’?” He asked finally. If he felt like crap then Kyle must have felt like crap too.

Kyle nodded and looked down at the ground, kicking at the grass a bit before looking back up at Stan’s blue eyes. His heart skipped a beat as he thought of those curvy chapped lips on his own. He felt heat rush up to his face and he blinked. “Uh,” He began as he swallowed hard, “I feel alright.” He lied smoothly. “I was just checking up on you really quick. You got really sick last night. Do you...remember?” He asked. Kyle felt face grow bright red at just the thought. They almost fucked last night and Kyle was going to let it happen.

Stan watched Kyle and smiled as he patted Kyle’s shoulder, shaking his head. “Dude, I don’t remember shit from last night. The only thing I kind of remember is seeing Butters sucking on someone’s face.” Stan watched Kyle, still feeling kind of nauseous. He wanted to throw up but he held it back. He wasn’t sure why he felt so sick all of a sudden. “That was hella fuckin’ weird.” He said with a chuckle.

“Marsh, what the fuck did I tell you?!” Yelled Coach. “Get Broflovski off the field and do ten laps around. C’mon!”

Stan smiled back at Kyle. Ten laps around the field was nothing of a punishment so Stan would be fine. “I guess you better get to class, dude. They’ll be missin’ your brains anyway. Thanks for checking in on me! You’re a real friend, dude.”

Kyle blinked a few times, his heart felt like it was physically falling. “Oh, yeah dude. Go run.” He retorted with a fake chuckle. He whipped around, putting his back to Stan, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets and started off towards the school. _Fuck. **FUCK.** Stan didn't remember._ His face grew red with frustration. _Fucking really?_ His brows were furrowed as he stared hard at the ground as he walked. What the fuck was he thinking? Did he think it was real? Of course, it wasn’t real. Stan was just fucking around with him last night. He fucking _knew_ it. He held back the biting sting in the corners of his eyes as he headed back to the main building of the high school.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get awkward for Style...

The rest of the day was long and agonizing. Half because of the migraine Kyle had in both temples, the other half because of the realization that Stan had not remembered last night. Kyle pulled books out of his locker and held them close to his chest, covering his heart. He felt completely vulnerable and shaken up. He used the books as protection even though the pain was inside his chest cavity. There was a light metallic clunk a few lockers down that drew his sudden attention as he craned his neck to the right. He found Stan pushing Wendy against the lockers and locking lips, tangling tongues. Kyle felt a wave of color pigment his cheeks and he felt the heat rush all the way to his ears, which he knew now must have matched his hair, thank Jesus he’d been wearing his ushanka. The pang struck his heart and he realized he wasn’t breathing. Suddenly feeling light headed, Kyle spun around and clotheslined himself on Cartman’s thick arm.

“Aye, Marsh!” Cartman yelled.

Kyle flinched at the name and cringed. Cartman hadn’t ripped on him all day. This was it and Kyle was not in the fucking mood.

“Go get a fucking room, Brah. No one wants to see that shit.” Cartman grunted instead.

Tilting his head to side-eye Cartman, Kyle wondered what was going on in that psychotic mind of his. Cartman must have felt his Kyle’s eyes on his as brown eyes met green. Kyle blinked quickly and awkwardly turned away.

“G-gotta get to class.” Kyle muttered abruptly before heading down the hall in the direction of his classroom.

Kyle didn’t know that when Stan kissed Wendy, the dark haired teen literally had no feeling. He and Wendy had just gotten into another argument about how Stan always seems to put her off and never takes the first step. Wendy always had to request sexual activities. It was never the other way around and Wendy was done with it. Stan forcefully made out with her only to shut her up. When his lips connected with hers, he suddenly had flashbacks of the night before. He remembered kissing soft, gentle lips. He remembered the static electricity between them and being hungry for more. For the life of him, though, he could not remember who those tasteful lips belonged to.

_“Aye, Marsh!” Cartman yelled, “Go get a fucking room, Brah. No one wants to see that shit.”_

Stan has pulled away from Wendy, almost dazedly, as he tried to remember who he made out with last night. His hard-blue eyes met Cartman’s angry brown ones and he knew immediately, much to his relief, that it wasn’t Cartman that he remembered kissing. His blue eyes then shifted over to meet Kyle’s wide-eyed gaze before Kyle immediately dropped them. Kyle seemed extremely flushed and flustered, for reasons Stanley couldn’t figure out, and suddenly his super best friend darted off. Stan was left utterly dumbfounded. Usually Kyle would defend Stan to no end when Cartman would tease him. Just as equally weird, Cartman seemed legit upset about his quick session of PDA with Wendy. It’s not as if displays like that were rare at South Park High. In fact, the teachers had a hell of a time keeping the South Park teens off of each other. Stan was fucking perplexed, staring off after Kyle and Cartman, who had also taken his leave to follow the redhead. _What did I do?_

*~*~*~*

Kyle had been dreading lunch the entire morning. Once the lunch bell rang he could feel the heat rise into the tops of his cheeks again and he immediately decided he would skip. He was quick to make a trip to his locker, throw his books inside the top shelf, grab his black Myabetic bag from his red backpack and shut it with a metallic clank. He slipped into the men’s restroom and set his bag on the counter next to the bathroom sink before washing his hands. At this point he wondered if he should just skip school entirely, which was not a normal thought to run through Kyle’s brain. He loved school. Goddamn it, Stan made this fucking complicated. Once Kyle rinsed off his clean hands and dried them, he reached for his bag and unzipped it. All his Insulin bottles clinked against each other and his syringes scraped against the mesh material inside. He unzipped another pocket inside and removed his glucose meter. Kyle was used to the routine by now. Six times a day he had to check his blood sugar levels, generally he had to administer insulin four times a day. He turned the meter on and while he waited for the little machine to boot up, he drew out his lancing device and loaded up a new lancet. He removed a black tube from his diabetic kit that held his test strips, pulled one out and inserted it into the meter. Once he completed those steps, he put the lancing device to the side of the tip of his middle finger pushed the button on the back of the lance. The needle pricked him but he managed, unphased. He had been doing this tedious chore for so long now, even the pain was routine. He put the lance down and squeezed his fingertip to make a larger drop of blood, then smeared it on the edge of the strip. As he waited for the meter to read his blood sugar levels, he took the used lancet out of his device and put it in a locked recycle box. He remembered a time when Stan couldn’t watch him prick his finger. It was even worse when he was required to have an insulin shot. The meter beeped and Kyle’s green eyes dragged across the screen.

2.9 mg

Concern rose in Kyle’s throat as he reached for a syringe and a vial of his insulin. He opened a packet with an alcohol pad and cleaned the top of the insulin bottle and then removed the plastic covering from the syringe. He dragged air into the syringe and stuck the rubber top of the vial and flipped the bottle upside down before he began to draw his medication into the syringe. Once he got his prescribed amount and made sure there were no bubbles in the syringe, he pulled out the needle and lifted up his shirt.

The bathroom door suddenly flung open and it made Kyle jump so high he almost lost his grip on his syringe.

“Oh Jesus! Sorry dude!” Came a muffled voice.

Kyle’s shoulders relaxed as he turned around and found an orange parka staring back at him.

“It’s alright Kenny.” Kyle sighed out as he held on to the syringe more securely.

“Dude…you need some help?” Kenny asked as he loosened up his hood and pulled it from his messy golden hair.

Amused, Kyle eyed his friend’s messy hair before stating, “Why does it constantly look like you have sex hair?”

“Who says it’s not?” Kenny waggled his eyebrows before moving closer to his friend.

Kenny grabbed the hem of Kyle’s dark blue t-shirt to help lift it up when he tilted his head. “Dude…aren’t these the same clothes you wore to the party last night?”

The question caught Kyle of guard and scarlet rose into his cheeks once again as his shirt was lifted up higher, revealing pale skin with splatters of random freckles. Kenny watched his friend and grinned as he knew the teen was growing uncomfortable and didn’t push the subject. Kenny’s eyes traveled to the ginger’s white, smooth stomach and found the occasional freckle to be cute. He didn’t understand what Cartman’s big deal against them was. Of course, Kenny had a quite few himself. Kyle watched the shirt draw up, reached under Kenny’s arm and held out his syringe while he pinched his skin. He stuck the thin needle into the flesh heedlessly at a 45-degree angle and began to push the syringe plunger in, pushing the insulin into his body. Kenny watched with delicate, light blue eyes, curious about the entire situation. It wasn’t that Kenny had never seen a needle used before, in fact, it was quite the opposite. Kenny had never seen a needle handled for such a seemingly innocent purpose. Once the syringe was empty, Kyle plucked it from his skin and placed it in the locked recycle bin before his eyes travelled back to Kenny, who still watched him curiously.

“What man?” Kyle finally asked and Kenny’s eyes glistened in reply.

“Remember that time when Stan was so worried about your kidney that he wanted to give you his?” He answered, his voice almost inaudible.

Nostalgia settled in as Kenny dropped the hem of Kyle’s shirt and he crossed the bathroom to use a urinal. The colors in Kyle’s cheeks faded to a soft pink as he turned back to the sink and began to pack his Myabetic bag.

“I honestly don’t remember a whole lot while I was sick. I remember Mom dragging me to the natural medicine place and I also remember Stan taking me to Cartman’s to ask for his kidney. Everything else is really fuzzy.” Kyle reminisced.

Kenny unzipped his pants, pulled himself out and let loose while nodding his head to acknowledge Kyle.

“Dude, Stan was so worried about you. He didn’t want to lose his best friend forever.” Kenny informed casually. “He tried to rally everyone up to try and cut Cartman’s kidney out himself, but it failed.”

Kyle rolled his eyes, “Why are we talking about this, Kenny?”

Kenny finished up, tucked himself back in and spun around on the heel of his steel-toed boot. His electric eyes met Kyle’s, suddenly serious. As he crossed the bathroom floor and stood right in front of Kyle, within arm’s reach, Kenny seemed so distant. His eyes gave way to an age and knowledge that somehow Kyle recognized he would never know. It was the same look that Kenny used to get when he would pretend to be Mysterion.

“Stan cares a lot ‘bout you, Kyle. I mean a lot.” Kenny emphasized. “I know he does stupid shit sometimes but don’t push him away or take him for granted, dude.”

Kyle just stared at Kenny, eyes wide and his jaw slack. Does Kenny know about last night? Surely not. Once again, Kyle turned a bright, noticeable shade of scarlet. Kenny regarded him with gentle, almost tired eyes before skirting around him to wash his hands. Kenny dipped his hands into the sink which responded automatically to his presence and the water began to run. A small smirk rested on Kenny’s lips as he continued to ignore Kyle’s eyes boring into the back of his golden head of hair and washed his hands. Kenny remained silent and Kyle took this as a sign that he was done with the matter altogether. Although being friends with Kenny damn near his entire life, the constantly hooded blonde boy seemed so mysterious at times. There were days when Kyle wouldn’t hear him say one muffled word at all. Some days, Kenny talked nonstop about boobs and pussy in gross detail, much to Kyle’s chagrin. One thing was for certain, Kenny McCormick was definitely an odd child. Kyle swore under his breath as he grabbed his Myabetic bag and left the bathroom in a rush.

“Dude, there you are.” He heard a familiar, husky voice down the hallway as he had left the bathroom.

Kyle craned his head in the direction of the voice and found Stan casually strolling up to him with his hands in his Letterman Jacket. Stan had a smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes which traveled over Kyle and fixated on the diabetic bag clutched in his hand.

“Everything alright?” Stan had asked in concern, even though he seemed a little green in the face himself.

Straightening his posture, even though it did no good because he was still one of the shortest boys in his class, he met eyes with Stanley’s blue orbs.

“Yeah dude. Blood sugar was a little low…but it’s all good now. I should be okay to eat something in about 15 minutes.” Kyle informed and Stan just nodded slowly. “Are…you alright?”

Stan’s nods turned to quick jerks. “Y-yeah dude! I’m cool, I just…my hangover is really fucking with me…I think.” He replied in a bit of a daze.

Kyle wasn’t really sure how to respond to this and feeling the awkward tension in the air, he could feel his face warming up again. Kyle began to step around Stan as he said, “Well, that sucks, man.”

As Kyle made his way around his awkward best friend, Stan grabbed his shoulder firmly but not hard, and looked him square in the face. Stan’s ocean blue eyes trailed along the outline of his face, the shape of Kyle’s eyes and how his red eyelashes became crescents against his suddenly pink cheeks when he blinked. Stan felt incredibly nauseated and without knowing it, Kyle did too.

“Did…” Stan began with excruciating slowness, “Did we do…anything last night?”

Much to Kyle’s own horror, he quickly recoiled from Stan’s touch and blurted, “No dude! Sick!” and stormed off before he even realized what he had done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed the little addition to this! It was originally just going to be a one shot but people seemed to like it s I decided to add a little more to it! In this, things only get more awkward for the two and I am not sure if I'll have an ending for it because Stan and Kyle won't actually get together until about 4 1/2 years after this. :'((
> 
> I do have a SWEET Style in the works right now that will make up for all this awkwardness, hopefully. Once it's finished I will post it and add a link to it in here.
> 
> Thanks for all the constant support! ILY guys! Let me know if you have any ideas or suggestions! I'm always open to new things!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan is sad and goes to Kenny for help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovlies! I hope all has been well with you. I'm back with another update with the Style side of the pre-Revenge era.
> 
> This chapter is actually kinda sad and has mentions of depression, suicide, drug usage as well as some smut, so proceed with caution.
> 
> Enjoy :)

Kyle stormed his way to the cafeteria and didn’t even pay attention to what was on his tray once he grabbed it because he wasn’t going to eat anyway. He silently selected the available spot next to Davíd who seemed to pick up on his mood immediately. 

“Kyle,” He began as he tiptoed through his phrasing of words. “Is…everything alright, mí amígo?”

For one reason or another, the slight Hispanic accent always seemed to calm Kyle’s frayed nerves. “Yeah dude. Just having a rough day, that’s all.”

Davíd nodded to this, side eyeing him for a moment with a curious expression that seemed to say he read right through Kyle’s comment but chose to say nothing else and continue with his lunch. It wasn’t long before Cartman took his place across from Kyle. He still seemed unnaturally quiet. Kyle stared at his food before pushing it away from him in the direction of his plump friend which caused surprised looks from both soft brown-eyed boys around him.

“Go ahead, Cartman. I’m not hungry.” Kyle’s voice dripped with agitation as he felt like he was being gawked at.

Cartman didn’t think twice as he dumped the food from Kyle’s tray onto his own and it didn’t take long for Kyle to miss Stan’s presence. Its absence was extremely noticeable the rest of the lunch period. Other than Stan and Kenny missing, the lunch period was probably one of the nicest ones he had ever been through. Cartman, for whatever reason, was oddly pleasant to be around. Kyle eventually pushed the thought to the back of his mind that perhaps Cartman had been up to something.

After lunch period, the rest of the day seemed to drag until the last bell rang and school poured out. Davíd offered to take Kyle home and he very appreciatively agreed. As they were leaving, they had heard rumors of Stan breaking up with Wendy, but that happened so frequently that Kyle had no interest to stick around and watch the drama. He’d had a hard-enough day as it was. He was taken home, skipped supper much to his mother’s dismay, and went to bed.

\---

A 2001 black Chevrolet pick-up truck was running on fumes while Stanley Marsh just sat in front of the Stark’s Pond. It was nine at night and the newly turned eighteen-year-old just stared at the clear, rippling water. Lots of things ran through his mind but mostly, he contemplated putting the truck in drive and just not stopping it. He was sober and hungover, but stone cold sober and maybe that was the problem. He was a better person when he was under the influence-whether it be alcohol or anything else that he could find. Pills were a favorite of his lately, along with weed, and Tweak Bros coffee had enough meth in it that after two cups, Stan could get the high he wanted. It was a shame his mother found his stash of literally everything in his bedside table the day before his party. If his dad found it, Stan would probably still be able to access some of it. Being left alone with his own thoughts scared him and so he fiddled with his phone. He wondered if he should call someone. If he called Kyle, his best friend would go on a tirade of how killing himself was selfish, that people would miss him, and how it wouldn’t solve anything and that he had so much to live for. Stan didn’t want to be scolded for having these thoughts; they were out of his control. He knew with every fiber of his being that his super best friend loved him to bits and pieces but sometimes Stan just wanted to be held instead of scolded. Not to mention Kyle seemed quite off today and Stan really didn’t feel like dealing with that either.

He thought about calling his girlfriend...well, ex-girlfriend now, again. Wendy had talked him down before, last summer, but he broke up with her just a few hours ago. He wasn’t even sure why he decided he didn’t want to be with Wendy anymore. Maybe he didn’t want to bring her down too?

Stan finally decided once he scrolled past Kenny’s name that this guy would probably be the best person to talk to. He pressed Kenny’s name with the pad of his thumb and pulled the phone up to his ear to listen. He bit his lip, trying to hold back a sob. Maybe talking to someone wasn’t such a good idea but it was too late for him to hang up because before long, Kenny’s voice was already on the other line.

Kenny had been in his backyard with a cigarette in his nimble fingers. His hood was let down and his blonde hair stuck out in different directions but he didn't bother messing with it. It would probably disappear underneath the hood before long anyhow and he wasn’t ashamed of his hair. Some sweet mandolin melody played from his orange parka pocket and he smiled, already knowing who was on the other line. He reached into his pocket and grabbed his black smartphone and put it up to his ear. The phone registered and answered the call automatically for him.

"Hey dude, what's up?" Kenny greeted with the cigarette still in his lips. "It's pretty nice outside." He observed as the smoke of his cigarette lifted effortlessly into the air and seemed to dissipate into the stars.

“H-hey, you uh...” Stan had to stop talking so he wouldn’t make it overwhelmingly obvious that he was upset. He had no idea why he did that. Habit, probably. He fucking called Kenny for that very stupid reason so why was he trying to hide it? “Yeah, it’s a nice night.” He agreed quietly, almost sardonically. Stan wasn’t even sure if Kenny’d heard him. “What’re you doin’?” He cleared his throat, speaking up a bit.

"Smokin’." Kenny replied matter-of-fact as a small drawl slipped out. He took in a deep breath of his cigarette and he cleared his throat. He couldn't help but feel suddenly worried about his best friend. "What're you doing?" He retorted back with a grin on his face even still. "Wanna hang out? I've got some weed that I just…acquired." He chuckled.

Nodding his head and trying to hold back tears from falling from his blue eyes, Stan replied to Kenny. “Um, y-yeah. Fuck yeah.” He smiled a bit. “You at home? I can come by if you wanna hang.” His voice was shifty. He couldn’t hide his occasional drawl of words like he normally tried to do. He bit his bottom lip to keep from sobbing. Hearing the shift in Stan's voice and that slight southern drawl that only showed its face on occasion, he didn't have to see Stan to know he was upset.

"Yeah dude. C'mon over. I'm in the back. We can hang out in my room." He took in another drag of his cigarette. "I'll make you feel better, I promise." He swore gently with a smile. Stan wanted to smile. He wanted to feel happy because of Kenny’s kindness. He loved the guy. He was always so grateful for Kenny but he just couldn’t muster the energy to do so.

“Okay. I’ll be right there.” Stan droned out. He hung up the phone and tossed it into the passenger seat just before he put the truck in reverse, then pulled out in the direction of Kenny’s house. It didn’t take long before he was parked in front of the SoDoSoPa sign that was still planted outside Kenny’s place after all these years. He put the car in park and killed the engine. He could see a cloud of smoke from the back of the house and he knew instantly where Kenny was located. Stan sniffed and moved to get out of the truck. Standing tall, about 5’9”, Stanley was still growing. He pulled his Letterman tighter over his chest and headed toward the back gate. When he rounded the corner of the deteriorating house he saw Kenny still smoking and waved sluggishly.

“Hey dude.” Kenny waved back and pushed off of the side of the house and reached into his pocket and pulled out a small baggy. Inside were pre-rolled blunts. He originally was going to sell them but he figured in Stan's obvious state he needed them more. He plucked one out of the baggy and handed it out to Stan. "You know you can always come to me if you need anything, right?" He asked gently as he dug in his other pocket for a lighter.

Reaching out for the joint, Stan quickly placed it between his lips. He then stuck his hand into his pocket to pull out some cash. “What do you want for it, dude?” His voice cracked a little. He’d hoped Kenny wouldn’t notice. _God dammit_. Maybe he shouldn’t have come by. “I don’t have a lot but I’ll give you whatever.”

Continuing to dig in his pocket for the lighter, Kenny stared at the ground as if he were concentrating really hard. "Um," he began as he finally fished out the lighter and handed it to Stan. "Eh, don't worry about it, dude. It's on me." He informed as his eyes wandered to Stan’s ocean blue ones. Kenny smiled widely but inside he knew Stan was in rough shape. Kenny lowered his eyes again as he concentrated on finishing off his cigarette. He flicked the butt into the dirt and pressed on it with his left steel-toed boot. He took in a deep breath but kept a smile on his face. "Dude, you should just crash over here tonight. I don't got any plans." He requested with a grin as he looked back at Stanley. Nodding, Stan cupped his hand around the end of the blunt and began to turn the wheel on the lighter. It took a few tries but soon Stan had lit the weed and returned the lighter to Kenny.

“Thanks Kenny.” He acknowledged post inhale. Smoke curled around his lips and up through his nose and into the sky. He looked up, watching it dissipate. He already felt a bit better. God, he was such a shitty person. The only time he was remotely happy was if he was influenced by drugs and alcohol. He returned his attention to the other teen next to him. He nodded his head and pulled the blunt from his lips to offer it to Kenny. “Uh, Yeah, that’d be cool.” He nodded. “Your parents’ home?”

Kenny shook his head with a small smile that didn't reach his eye. "Nah, they were both arrested again this morning." He told the other teen. "Karen is already in bed asleep so I've completed my adult responsibilities for the night." He scoffed in amusement. He put his hands in his pockets and looked up at the night sky. It was always pretty behind his house. There were hardly ever any lights by where he lived and the stars always shone bright.

"So…Stan, feeling like shit?" He brought up in a casual voice.

Stan placed the joint back between his lips and looked down to the ground. He inhaled again and forced the smoke to stay in his lungs for a solid six seconds before exhaling. He pulled the blunt back out and held it between his left forefinger and thumb. This was good shit. Kenny always managed to find good weed. A small smile, his first one all day, graced his lips. “Yeah, feelin’ pretty fucking down.” His blue eyes began to water again, tears already threatening to spill. “The stupid thing: I don’t know what’s wrong.” He admitted softly.

Kenny shrugged his thin shoulders and moved off of the wall so he could grab Stan by the jacket. Once he had a fist full of Stan's Letterman he pulled him into a hug. Kenny stood an inch or two above his best friend but Stan was a lot more muscular than he. He kissed Stan's raven hair and held him tightly. "It's not stupid. It's not." He whispered sternly as his breath whished tendrils of Stan's hair around. "Sometimes you don't have to know what's wrong because everything is."

Finally, Stan let his tears fall and he sobbed in Kenny’s arms. His body almost craved to be held by someone. He wrapped his own arms around Kenny, still holding onto the joint with his left hand. No way he was gonna drop free weed. He buried his face in Kenny’s chest and closed his eyes.

“Ken, I dunno what to do about it. I just don’t want to be around anymore. I’m not happy with anything. Like, ever.” He confessed. “The only saving grace I have is you and Kyle, Dude. That’s it.” He bit his bottom lip to choke back a sob. “I mean, fuck. I broke up with Wendy and I don’t even know why.”

Patting Stan's back, Kenny just listened and nodded as he spoke. "Dude, honestly how long has it been since you have had good sex?" He replied with curiosity. "That always makes me feel better when I am down. Which is often." He chuckled. “Did last night, matter-of-fact.”

Stan sniffed and pulled away to look at Kenny. His arms were still wrapped around him. “I dunno, dude.” He looked around, almost nervous someone else might be there to hear his next words. “Fuck, I’m gonna tell you something but you can’t tell anyone else, okay?” His voice was barely above a whisper as he spoke. He looked back at Kenny. “Last time I tried with Wendy…” He paused, thinking of his words very carefully before speaking up once more. “…I couldn’t get it up.”

Kenny's eyes widened in surprise. "Dude, really? That's probably your problem. You still have a thing for Kyle?" Kenny asked with a knowing grin. "You need to fuck a dude then. Trust me, it's great." He chortled as he held Stan close.

Watching Kenny, Stan cocked his eyebrows and tilted his head. He almost looked like a wounded puppy with those large blue eyes. “You’ve been with dudes?” He asked, yet somehow not all that surprised. “Like, up the ass and everything?” He pulled away from Kenny to pull the blunt back up to his lips, inhaling again. He never stopped looking at Kenny though. Knitting his blonde eyes brows together, Kenny watched Stan right back.

"I'm surprised at you Stan. You can't call me a sex addict unless I've done it all." He confidently grinned. He patted Stan's back again with comfort. "C'mon, let’s go inside. I can look up some porn or something for you and find out if it works." He retorted with a small laugh as he pulled away from Stan to grab at the plastic sheet that covered his broken window. He drew it back inviting Stan inside his bedroom. Stan nodded his head and climbed inside. He’d looked at porn already. Straight porn but stuff his dad hadn’t hidden very well at all. He knew run of the mill straight porn wouldn’t work. Maybe Kenny had something exotic. He turned to hold his hand out to help Kenny crawl through the window.

“You got something crazy you’re gonna show me?” He asked, wiping his tears with the heel of his hand that still held the burning blunt.

Kenny grinned as he took Stan's hand and helped himself through the window. He shut the panel the best he could behind him and put the thick blanket back in its spot to keep the heat of the house in.

"I've got some stuff." He stated as he moved across his room to his closet and pulled out a box of all his porn. He flipped through the magazines until he came across the playgirl ones. He pulled out a few and turned on his heel and slapped them against Stan's chest with a wide grin. Stan stood strong against the tactical slam. He was used to much bigger guys than Kenny trying to push him down thanks to football.

"Take a look at those dicks and tell me what you think." Kenny winked at Stan and moved to his own broken twin sized bed, began to kick off his boots and tugged off his parka.

Stan gave a small grin as he placed the joint to his mouth and sat on Kenny’s bed. The first magazine must have been a Christmas edition because the guy in front wore a Santa hat and sleigh bells around his neck. He was covered up because it was the cover. The muscles intrigued Stan but weren’t enough to sell him on guy porn. He flipped to the first couple pages. He was looking at a less steroid filled man than the one on the cover but he was completely naked with a hand wrapped around his erect cock. He was giving a sultry look to the reader. Stan felt something in his stomach move.

“Uh...Yeah, real nice Ken.” He sheepishly admitted as he flipped to another page where another dude was holding open his own ass cheeks. He too was looking back at the reader with an enticing face. Kenny watched Stan with a small smile on his face. He reached over and plucked the blunt from Stan's lips and took a hit before placing it back where it belonged. He held it for a minute before releasing the smoke and he chuckled.

"Dude, if they don't quite do it then just picture Kyle's face." He suggested as he patted Stan on the back. "You can take them home to jack off if you want. You could also stay here. I'll just go to the living room or somethin'." He said with a wide grin.

Stan turned to look at Kenny. The rolled weed hung loosely in his lips after Kenny placed it back. “Dude, I can’t go home smelling like weed. My mom has a nose like a fucking blood hound.” He expounded, the joint bobbing up and down as he spoke. “And I’m not gonna kick you out of your room so I can wrap my hand around my dick either. That’s not fair. You invited me over. I’ll hang out.” He expressed, closing the magazine.

"Fuck you." Kenny blurted out. "I told you I'd make you feel better, not that we'd 'just hang out.' Tell you what..." he raised an eyebrow and looked at Stan with a suddenly sultry smile. "You smoke that weed and lay back on the bed. Enjoy yourself and I'll take care of you." He grinned as he got off the bed and moved to the floor between Stan's legs.

Stan’s eyes widened and he watched Kenny. He placed the magazines down beside the bed and he pulled the joint out of his mouth. It was almost done. He smiled and widened his legs to give Kenny more room. “Uh, what’re you thinking Kenny?” He asked softly.

Licking his lips, Kenny reached for Stan's belt and began to release the buckle. "I’m thinkin'..." he began as he cocked a sideways smile up at him. "...of suckin' you off." He proposed with a grin. He pulled the belt out of the loops of his jeans and he worked on the button and zipper while watching Stan through light lashes.

Stan’s breath hitched as he reached up to grab the dying joint. He moved to put it out in an ashtray beside Kenny’s bed. Stanley nodded his head. “Uh Yeah. Yeah, o-okay.” Stan’s voice cracked once more when he spoke and again, he’d hoped that Kenny didn’t notice. He licked his lips and looked behind him at Kenny’s pillows. He grabbed both of them and stacked them so he could lean back like Ken had wanted. He was propped up on the pillows, elbows on the bed and he watched Kenny intently. “If you’re sure you wanna...”

Heart pounding in his chest excitedly, Kenny just grinned in response as he pulled Stan's jeans and underwear down. He tugged on them and pulled them over Stan's hips and down his thighs as he let his fingertips gently graze the skin there. Kenny pull the jeans off completely when they began to pool around Stan's ankles followed by his underwear. All that remained on Stan now was his shirt, beanie, and his high top shoes. Kenny looked up at Stan as he positioned himself on his knees. His electric blue eyes moved to Stan's half-hard dick and grinned.

"I promise I can do this a shit ton better than Wendy." Ken assured with a laugh. He was being cocky and he knew it. He also knew every word he spoke was true. He wrapped his long, callused fingers around Stan's cock and held it for a moment as he reached into his broken bedside table for an almost empty bottle of lube. He chuckled slightly before a small twinge of guilt filled his heart. He stared at the lube momentarily, remembering the night previous, and gave a small smile. He popped the top and looked up to Stan. “It’s gonna be a bit cold.” He warned before tipping the bottle to let the clear liquid slide down Stan’s shaft. He felt the older teen jump a bit at the coldness, chuckled audibly, and as the lube slide down the length, Kenny gently began to pump it to make Stan harder.

Letting out a staggered breath, Stan watched Kenny through half lidded eyes. “Dude...” He whimpered softly. He couldn’t believe self-proclaimed sex addict Kenny McCormick (someone who Stan called his best friend) was touching him so intimately. His hand felt good wrapped around him as he slowly pumped his hand up and down his shaft. “Dude...” He hummed out again. He was so interested and it was already good. He could feel himself growing in Kenny’s hand. “H-how many guys you been with Kenny?” He asked gently.

Raising a blonde eyebrow, Kenny couldn't help but smile at how cute Stanley’s expressions were.

"Uh, a couple." He answered vaguely as the thought of Butters from the night before. He could feel a small rush of color move to his cheeks as he looked away from Stan. He could see Stan swelling in his hand and he chuckled.

"I _thought_ you'd like this." He confirmed as he worked on Stan's dick for a bit longer before pulling his hand away all together. "I'm betting you'll like this more then." He spoke as he rested his hands on Stan's hips. He dipped his head down and placed his tongue to the base of Stan's cock and slowly ran his tongue all the way to the tip. The lube was flavored, though not very well, but it made Stan taste a bit like strawberries He waited to witness Stan's reaction before he continued. Stan’s mouth fell agape as he watched Kenny move down and back up again. He gasped and his head tilted back a bit.

“Fuck Kenny.” Stan felt his cock push to stand at full attention. He really did like this a lot. What’s better was that Kenny seemed like he actually wanted to have Stan’s dick in his mouth. Wendy wasn’t much for giving head. Stan let the head on his shoulders come forward again and it was like his ocean blue eyes shined brighter than before. His pupils were dilated and his mouth hung open.

Smirking, Kenny kept his lips over Stan's dick, took the head into his mouth and swirled his tongue around it. He raked his short nails along Stan's thighs as he let out a small moan. He pushed Stan deep into his throat and engulfed him almost entirely. He pushed Stan to the back of his throat and fought through his gag reflexes. Truth be told he was really looking into impressing the older boy. Kenny felt like he was really only good at two things: dying and fucking. He let another moan that he knew would send shock waves of pleasure throughout Stan's cock. To Stan, Kenny’s mouth felt amazing. It was wet, warm, and _Jesus H Christ, did my dick just touch the back of Kenny’s throat?_ He couldn’t help it. Stan let out a moan that was louder than he’d intended.

“Shit, Ken.” He closed his eyes and licked his lips. They felt dry. Had they been this dry all night? _Fuck._ He moved his left hand to Kenny’s head, entangling his fingers in the messy blonde locks. Kenny’s hair was soft. It felt nice under his fingers. It took everything in Stan to not buck his hips upward as he opened his eyes again to watch Kenny. The other teen was so beautiful in the moment. Hell, Kenny was sexy all the time and Stan had no problem admitting it.

While working on Stan, Kenny moaned as he placed his tongue flat against the head of Stan’s cock and placed pressure against it. He glanced up at Stan through golden lashes and enjoyed Stan’s adorable reactions immensely. Kenny could feel the heat in his cheeks rise but noticed something was missing. His heart really wasn’t into it, despite his urge to impress Stanley.

A hushed gasp came from the older, raven headed teen. Kenny seemed so experienced already and here was Stan, losing any semblance of heterosexuality to his longtime friend. He forced his head to stay forward as he watched his best friend. His own spread legs tensed at the feelings Kenny gave him. A grin curled up his lips. The hand he had in Kenny’s hair loosened a bit and he softly ran his fingers through the golden locks.

“God, Ken...” He mumbled, trying to keep quiet. Despite the sudden ministrations between the two boys, he remembered Kenny saying something about Karen being asleep in the room next to them.

All in all, Kenny was pretty proud of himself to make Stan squirm the way he did. Stan’s face was bright red and his ocean blue eyes almost seemed to glow against the only ambient light from the blue Christmas lights that were strung around the room. It was a triumphant moment for Kenny to be able to make his best friend come - something that he had wanted to do for a while because he always just fucking knew Stan _had_ to be gay, but the entire scenario just didn’t seem as beautiful as what he had with Butters the night before. Kenny sucked harder against Stan’s hard, leaking dick hoping to just pull out whatever depression he was going through and hoping that somehow, Kenny’s sexual proclivity would be the cure.

Lightly running his fingers from Kenny's hair, just to graze over the side of the hollowed cheeks, Stan bit onto the inside of his own cheeks to keep from letting out an elicit moan. This wasn't his first blowjob and certainly, hopefully, not his last but it was the first he'd ever received from another male. So far, too, it was much better than anything Wendy had ever given him. Wendy had made it abundantly clear that sucking cock was not her favorite thing to do after the first time she and Stan had been together. Stan would occasionally get the face she made after he came stuck in his head. He always remembered the appearance of disgust in her eyes and the way her lips pursed at the taste of his spunk. But Kenny...he seemed into it. The little looks his friend shot him every so often and the observation that Kenny seemed like he didn't mind having a cock shoved deep in his throat; it forced Stan's already reddened cheeks to intensify in color. His left leg had started to bounce, cluing the blue-eyed teen to his inevitable climax.

"F-fuck, Kenny..." His voice was hoarse. It was difficult to speak. "Gonna...gon’..."

Prompting an excited, muffled chuckle in Stan’s cute admittance, Kenny bobbed his head up and down quickly. He forcefully shoved Stan to the back of his throat and swallowed hard, physically begging Stan to come. He shot Stan another glance through the blonde, uneven bangs that fell into his eyes. Red faced and bright blue eyed, Stan was perfection. What girl or boy wouldn’t want to give this guy a blow job? Certainly, Kyle was fucking nuts for not even at least considering it. The boys had all been friends their entire lives; it surprised Kenny that the lines of friendship and relationship hadn’t been blurred at one time or another. Through clenched teeth and failed attempts to calm his leg, Stanley closed his eyes and leaned his head back. He didn't want it to end. It was so soon. Was he really so easy that he would come so quickly? Was he so easy because of the weed? Deep breaths entered and escaped his nose as he tried to keep quiet. His hand ran back up the side of Kenny's face and through his hair, then down to the blanket on Kenny's bed. He grabbed hold of it tightly. He was unsure what to do with his hands, with his legs, his breathing, his entire self as he felt the rush of his orgasm escape his balls, run through his shaft and into Kenny's mouth. Once the sticky white liquid began to exit his body, he leaned his head back and forgot how to breathe. His entire body had tensed and his toes curled inside his black high tops. He pulled Kenny's blanket up to his chest, holding onto it tightly.

Quick to swallow all that Stan gave him, the salty substance made its way down Kenny’s throat with relative ease, proving his expertise. Once Stan finished coming, Kenny licked his friend clean before crawling on the bed, over Stan, and peered down at his embarrassed, red faced friend. A golden eyebrow raised as he grinned down at Stanley but chose not to say anything. Kenny admitted that he was pretty fucking proud of himself that he made Stan come so quickly. Poor guy must have not had pleasurable sex for quite some time. He definitely needed it, Kenny could just tell. He watched Stan’s lost, lonely eyes and noted the small mountains, valleys and canyons of different hues of blue that colored Stan’s ocean orbs. His pupils were quite dilated, however that didn’t take over the gorgeous color of his irises completely. Stan really was something and with all the emotions for his best friend that he could muster, Kenny wanted Stan to be happy. In his heart, he knew it couldn’t be with him although he would do whatever was necessary to keep Stan’s head afloat.

Orgasm ending and reaching around to place a hand to Kenny's face, petting the soft freckled skin, Stan let out a long-held breath. He felt his body relax and he grinned, genuinely, for the first time that night. He moved toward Kenny and placed soft lips to his friend's lips. The kiss was quick but that didn't denote from what Stan felt in the exact moment. "Shit, dude." He mumbled against Kenny's lips. "Sorry that ended so fuckin' fast."

Kenny grinned and shrugged his shoulders as he gave a sweet, sticky kiss in return. Truth be told, it wasn’t the first time he made someone come fast and he was confident that it wouldn’t be the last time. “Don’t sweat it. It’s not the first time…and I’m glad I finally got to see that smile. Seems like its been forever since I’ve seen it.”

With that, though, Stan's smile faded and he looked down to the blanket he still held in his other hand. He fondled it thoughtfully before he said anything else. "Sorry." His voice was so quiet, he could barely hear himself. He let go of the blanket and leaned back on the bed, head resting up against the pillows he'd piled behind himself. The Christmas lights strung around Kenny's room almost seemed surreal. Like the boys were in a different place all together. Somewhere where all things didn’t matter and problems just didn’t exist. Under those lights, Stan felt secure for the first time in he couldn’t remember how long. He licked his lips and looked over at Kenny. "Thanks for that, Ken." He said, finally. "I really needed it."

Kenny nodded quietly as he moved away from his best friend and sat on the edge of the bed. He clasped his hands together as he thought about Butters running out on him this morning. A part of him wanted to tell Stan about how it actually kind of hurt his feelings. He was having a wonderful morning with perfect dreams. Nothing had ever gone so perfect for him in his entire life. Even after finding out his parents had been arrested right after Butters left, he was in a pretty good mood until he got to school. Kyle and Stan had been more awkward than ever. It felt as though the entire school was divided on something and everyone was against each other for one stupid reason or another, but what Kenny felt with Butters last night was nothing like he had ever felt before. When Kenny’s cheeks warm up as he smiled and finally decided to tell Stan about his feelings, he turned around and found his friend snoring lightly. Stan looked at peace and healthy. He didn’t seem as fucked up as Kenny knew Stan was about this entire falling out with Kyle. Kenny let out a sigh as he pulled himself up from his bed and began to remove Stan’s high tops from his feet. With Stan being conked out Kenny was able to move the teen around to where he was actually resting correctly Upon the mattress and pulled the blanket to cover him up. Kenny gently pulled the tacky blue beanie off of Stan’s head and placed it on his broken-down bedside table. He moved the thick black bangs from Stan’s face, smiling sadly. He wanted so much for his friends to be happy. Kenny grabbed his parka and shrugged it on and slipped on his boots without tying them. He pulled out his Marlboros from his pocket and a lighter and crawled back out the window, with one more sullen, exhausted look at Stan before going outside to have another smoke.

Looking back up at the twinkling stars, Kenny’s blue eyes reflected the milky way as he took a long-drawn breath of his cigarette. "It's still pretty nice outside." He observed quietly as the smoke of his cigarette lifted effortlessly and seemed to dissipate into the night air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always you are all appreciated. Leave comments, kudos or whatever you wish to just let me know if you liked it so I know if I should continue with the story line.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!! I hope you all have a wonderful day.
> 
> For the Bunny parallel to this story: Lovin' if you were interested.
> 
> Ciao! ^-^


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan has a secret D:<

Months went by with horrendous torment. Kyle rarely talked to Stan unless it was absolutely necessary and both boys fucking hated it. Stan continued to get frustrations resolved with intimate relations with Kenny, even though there was no real relationship there other than friendly benefits. Kenny wasn’t sure how else to keep Stan’s head above water. The worse his and Kyle’s friendship got, the farther Stan would spiral. Kenny, on so many occasions, wanted to tell Kyle himself but he made a promise that could not be broken. This fallout between the two super best friends was so much worse than when they were ten. In fact, Kenny would rather relive through that than this. Preferably, so would Stan. 

Graduation had come and gone by – the only memorable part about any of it was when Craig interrupted the entire ceremony after Tweek crossed the stage to ask him to marry him, which got the entire town in a frenzy of emotions. Kyle was valedictorian over Wendy, something he had always striven for and something she was absolutely sour about. Stan was pretty certain he had been drunk or under the influence of something worse during the ceremony because he didn’t remember hardly any of it. Nor the day after, when Kenny wound up missing. In fact, Stan had a dirty little secret that no one knew about. Not even himself until he received a letter in the mail that he had a somehow passed the Armed Forces Vocational Aptitude Battery test and had a date set to go to a recruit training camp in Virginia. 

He struggled to make sense of the official looking paper that bore his name and a time that he had to be at the Marine Corps base in Quantico, Virginia. He wracked his brain trying to remember ever even applying and his stomach flipped the more he realized he must have been fucked up when he did it. Did drunk Stan think this was a joke? How could I have done something this fucking stupid? Feeling tears sting the backs of his eyes, he threw the paper onto his floor and flopped back on his bed. What a fucking idiot he must have seemed. How the fuck did he pass in that kind of condition? Maybe Kyle can—

Stan shot up in bed, putting a hold on all on his thoughts except one. Kyle. What was he going to do? Of course, he immediately felt the need to tell Kyle but the more he deliberated the more he thought maybe he should keep this to himself. He and Kyle weren’t even on speaking terms anymore and he didn’t even know what he did wrong. Feeling his head begin to spin he got up from his bed, crossed the room to his dresser and pulled out his half-empty whiskey bottle. Quickly screwing the lid off he took a few gulps of the liquid fire and felt the warmth hit his belly. He felt a little better already. He went back to his bed, bottle in hand, and on his way picked up the official Marine Corps letter. Somehow, he was able to fool the recruiting officer (which may not have been hard considering this is South Park after all) and he was able to pass his test. Perhaps this was something he needed. Maybe this was something he was meant to do. Tears stung the back of his eyes once more as he placed the document on his bedside table. If he told Kyle, if the other boy would even give two shits that is, he would prevent him from going. Probably? He wasn’t even sure who Kyle was anymore. The ex-super best friend hung out with only Davíd and Cartman now. He lifted the bottle and took another swig and ultimately came to the conclusion that he wasn’t going to tell anyone fuckin’ anything. The date for his departure was in three weeks and he would keep that all to himself; deal with it on his own. He would leave this _fuckin’_ town, the _fuckin’ shit-eatin’_ people, and get the **FUCK** out of here. Stan knew that that also meant leaving Kyle behind but Stan couldn’t keep on like this. He hated being alone but he loathed feeling this dark bitterness inside of his soul even more.

Darkness always crept into Stan’s mind and his brain triggered random, unwanted emotions of hate, rage and sadness. He was ready for it to end and thought this was the perfect way to get out without self-harming. It’s possible that being surrounded by a military environment would help him clean up his act and his godforsaken, pitiful fucking mind. Maybe, just maybe, he would forget about his confusing feelings for his ex-best friend as well. As Kyle had so blatantly put it when they were kids, “Look Dude, things around here have changed. Sometimes, the only way to keep going is to make a left turn.” Stanley was pretty certain that this was exactly what he thought: his Left Turn. 

*~*~*~*

Walking through the corridors of school and seeing familiar faces that blurred as he passed them, Kyle tugged on the straps of his nylon backpack adjusting the weight on his shoulders. He made his way towards the front of the school as classes let out and the air filled with metal clanking of lockers, teenage angst, and garbled voices gossiping about their day. Preserving an indecipherable expression Kyle glided through the crowd of classmates and faculty attempting to make it without incident today, until above the dull roar of life in the halls called a voice. Kyle stopped and his shoulders slumped as the moment of being perpetually invisible slipped away and all eyes twisted to his attention. Heart panging to the voice that he grasped had actually beckoned his name rather than just being a misinterpreted Neanderthal yell, he took in a deep breath as he mentally prepared for circling his body around to be confronted. Whispers under hushed voices echoed around him; his face prematurely commenced to glow under the unwarranted attention and his black converse shoes felt like lead made up the soles. He sustained his composure as he turned around and glanced down the hallway that seemed to stretch an entire mile filled with a curious audience. Fiery blue eyes, dark lashes with matching wispy locks that framed a face he knew. Or rather, used to know. Each step that was taken seemed to reverberate down the corridor and the spectators were so intrigued that the previous undertones had died to silence; Kyle sensed his heart straining, asphyxiating itself in the invention of safety.

The distance reduced and Kyle could have utilized the time to contemplate what he intended to say yet his brain was completely subdued as he attained eye contact with cornflower colored orbs. Stillness thickened the air between the two males and as other got closer, Kyle noted the dark bags under his eyes and hollowed cheeks. The color that used to fill his ex-super best friend’s features were now drained. Colorless, chapped lips and an irresistible mourning look reflected in his ocean pools. Stanley stopped in front of Kyle just out of reach; Granted, he could have tried, nonetheless Kyle was unexpectedly apprehensive of making contact. Tunnel vision kept Kyle from noticing anything other than the teen that stood in front of him. He remembered a time when a gentle smile splayed across those lips from seeing his dog frolic through daisies in the summer time; a time that seemed ages ago and long lost. He would give anything to see that sort of smile again. It caused Kyle undeniable anguish to see his long-lost best friend so… unbelievably broken. He suddenly caught a malice grin ghost across Stan’s pallid, dry lips as that pain he had become abruptly mindful of was legitimately gouging into the flesh of his back, between his shoulder blades. Shocked and unable to emit a scream, Kyle angled his head to peer over his shoulder and found messy blonde-haired body pulling a blade away. Crimson pooled down collectively to the tip of the shank and produced droplets that lightly dribbled to the dirty tile floor of the school. Through the tousled golden mess, seemingly ancient sky-blue eyes peered at him menacingly; his ex-friend suddenly flickered in and out of focus with shadows dancing about before he mysteriously vanished altogether. Sheer agony and weariness grew in pulsating waves throughout Kyle’s body and his knees buckled under his own mass, betraying him in front of the raven-haired teen.

“S-Stan?” Kyle murmured weakly under his breath as he looked back to his ex-super best friend for help. He was met with gentle, calloused hands catching his shoulders as he slumped forward now inches away from Stanley. 

Kyle could now see him for what he really was – a living corpse. Stan’s face was unnatural and splotchy. Pale. His plump lips were parched of moisture and his thin face was unhealthy. Heart thrashing in his ears, Kyle searched the face of his broken friend for an explanation. Even for help. 

“I even told you that I fucking loved you, dude.” Came Stan’s husky voice but his lips never moved to the words uttered. Realization hit Kyle as the discomfort in his spine subside next to a worse aching that detonated in his chest. 

_I…fucking loved you too._

Sounds of sobbing seemed to transport the curly redhead back to a lethargic consciousness. It took him a moment to realize the cries that awoke him were his own. Languidly, he brought his arm up to wipe the tears that stained his cheeks. His heart continued to pound in a panic and the raw feelings that were brought out by the nightmare were still present. He put a hand over his chest and lightly tapped his sternum to a made-up beat to calm himself from his emotional indignation. Tears still spilled over the rims and glided down his freckle-dusted cheeks before being erased by a sleeve. Sobs escaped his lips as he fought to regain control of himself. He couldn't think straight with Stan still fresh on his mind. He had been through so much in his life: arrested, shot at, given aids, cured of aids, almost raped, even almost killed. Hell, he has actually even experienced death for at least five minutes. Countless terrors, some that he is sure he has blocked from his memory or would rather pretend never happened; there was something about his ex-best friend destroyed him far worse than anything he has ever encountered. The past eight months were relentless on his health. He’d stopped eating and as a result had to use more insulin and bore noticeable weight loss that he tried to obscure. He stopped seeing people and never came out of his room unless absolutely necessary. Kyle had been accepted to University of Denver and was going to start quite a few courses online in a few months. He hoped that would be distracting enough. If he just buried his nose in books and ideology like he always has, especially this past year, then maybe he will be okay. 

His mewls finally ebbed into sniffles and his chest didn’t heave as quickly but the aches in his rib cage did not subside. Hand remaining gently placed over his heart, Kyle glanced at his iPhone sitting across the room at his desk. His fingers itched to punch in Stan’s number he knows by heart wanting to apologize for everything. He desired to hear his voice. He so desperately wanted to tell him about his horrible dream, like they did when they were younger, and then attempting to decipher its meaning together until wee hours of the next morning. He felt the burning of a few more streams of additional tears roll down his raw cheeks but this time he did not wipe them away. He wished everything could go back to the way it was before Stan’s birthday. He wanted to hear Stan tell him everything was going to be alright. He missed him. Kyle had never been one to be emotional or even remotely passive about much but his friend had always held a special place in his heart; every fiber of his entire being suffered knowing that those moments were lost and that the two were no longer friends and probably never would be again. There was no going back. Things have changed. 

Just outside Kyle’s bedroom door a young hand rested on the doorknob in debate of turning it open. The jet black haired thirteen-year-old had heard his older brother crying in his sleep and wanted to check on him, but Ike could never find the right time to tell Kyle that he was incredibly worried. In all honesty, he missed the redhead’s formerly upbeat attitude even if he was as stubborn as a mule. Kyle was Ike’s brother for God’s sake and he cared about him a lot. Kyle sometimes was a little rough and bullied him a bit growing up but older brothers are like that. He never once held it against Kyle. The redhead was always supportive as they got older and sincerely tried to take care of Ike when their father wouldn’t. Kyle stepped in as the man of the household often when their immature father had people online to cyberpunk. Ike had noticed for the past few months that Kyle has been losing weight and never takes food up to his room. Is he even using his insulin? Surely, he was; he knew Kyle wasn’t a moron. The thirteen-year-old wouldn’t be in high school until the next year but for Stan’s sake, it was a damn good thing too. The already 5’10” teenager was willing to give his brother’s heart breaker a piece of his goddamn mind. Removing his hand from the doorknob after a few more minutes of listening in, Ike affirmed that his brother had stopped sobbing and hopefully had gone back to sleep. Ike rubbed some sleep from the corners of his eyes and yawned as he turned heel and wearily padded his way down the hall back to his own bedroom. This was just one of many, many sleepless nights for Ike Broflovski. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and I am sorry for the delay in posting. I have been going through my own mental struggles along with happy exciting moments in my life. I won't bore you details but I am recently married now and I am trying to turn my life towards a more positive future. I hope everyone had wonderful holidays and I also sincerely hope the year 2019 bodes well to all!
> 
> Thank you to all who have kept up with my AU so far and to those who have just discovered it. I hope you enjoyed it!  
> Ciao~

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for all the kudos and comments! Style has a special place in my heart and I need to write some more for these two boys. I have another story on the horizon with older/aged up Style placed wayyy after this...and they have a happy ending I promise ;)))
> 
> Also, for a continuance on the _mysterious_ person and Butters make-out session: [here ya go](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13938804). ;)
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are _always_ appreciated. I love to know what you guys think! Ciao! ^w^


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